<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Interrupted by Criccieth</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22853524">Interrupted</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Criccieth/pseuds/Criccieth'>Criccieth</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Torchwood</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Episode: s02e11 Adrift, M/M, Missing Scene</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-02-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 18:22:04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,677</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22853524</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Criccieth/pseuds/Criccieth</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>In Season 2's "Adrift", in the Hub. Gwen arrives, Gwen leaves (in rather a hurry)....what happened next?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jack Harkness/Ianto Jones</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>61</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Interrupted</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This was one of the first pieces of Torchwood fanfic I ever wrote. In-cannon, just a missing moment from "Adrift". Previously posted on my live-journal and the old comms. Phone conversation dialogue taken from the episode.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Kicking the door shut, Ianto stood for a moment, drinking in the sight. Jack had turned to face him, leaning back slightly against the desk, shirt once again discarded. As their eyes met, both began to smile. The frantic urgency was gone, the atmosphere different now. The mention of what had happened an hour ago had them both thinking along new lines.</p>
<p>“You know, didn’t much go for the interruption” Jack said softly. “But…I don’t know….” He started to walk towards Ianto, the familiar roguish smile on his face. “Kinda liking the dishevelled look you got going there.” Ianto put his head slightly to one side, playing along.</p>
<p>“Oh, really?”</p>
<p>“Mmmm.” Jack closed the last step between them, and put both hands on Ianto’s hips, running his fingers across the other’s back, enjoying the resultant faint hitch to Ianto’s breathing. “Kinda hot.”</p>
<p>“I noticed she apologised to me but not to you” Ianto said softly, his own hands catching at Jack’s unfastened waistband before sliding lower once again. Jack gasped at the light, warm touch and leaned forward to kiss the other man, whispering against his lips.</p>
<p>“That’s because she, like the others, still harbours that old delusion about you.”</p>
<p>“Oh?” </p>
<p>“Mmm. The one that says that underneath that pristine exterior is a calm, ordered, polite individual.” He slid his hands upwards and then broke the kiss gently, shaking his head in mock disapproval as he realised that half the shirt’s buttons were done up. He began to undo them one at a time, pushing the shirt further open each time and kissing the exposed skin. </p>
<p>“You were saying about a delusion?” Ianto prompted as Jack slid the shirt down the younger man’s arms. Ianto moved one hand at a time from Jack’s body, allowing the shirt to fall to the floor once more. Jack moved on to undo the leather belt Ianto had fastened only minutes earlier.</p>
<p>“Yeah. You see, I know better. I know that underneath that pristine exterior, Ianto Jones…you are a decidedly kinky man.” The last word came out almost as a moan as Ianto’s hands began to move again. </p>
<p>“All learned from you, I assure you.” </p>
<p>Jack raised an eyebrow, laughing softly as he slid the zip down.  “Me? Can I remind you that the stopwatch has always been <b>your</b> idea?” </p>
<p>Ianto kissed him on the lips, then ran a trail of kisses along his jaw to his throat.</p>
<p>“Oh, yes…..” Jack breathed. “Now, where were we?” He slid his hands inside Ianto’s trousers and was rewarded by a gasp against his jugular. </p>
<p>“G…going down....” Ianto began.</p>
<p>“Ah!” Jack started to move, but Ianto’s hands moved to his waistband, holding him in place as the Welshman pulled back slightly to look at him. For a moment, Jack just enjoyed the view – mussed hair, flushed face, eyes bright and that wonderful smile….truly beautiful.</p>
<p>“No….I meant, down to your bunk? More comfortable. And private.” </p>
<p>“What – you think Gwen liked what she saw? Think she might come back for a repeat performance?” The sudden flash of heat in Ianto’s eyes actually surprised Jack. The hands that had been holding him up were suddenly pushing <b>down</b>. Grinning, Jack sank to the floor, looking up into a truly devilish smile as Ianto’s hands moved up, fingers sliding into his hair, pressing lightly against his head. </p>
<p>“Did I mention your kinky side?”</p>
<p>“Jack?”</p>
<p>“Yeah?”</p>
<p>“Stop talking – work to do!”</p>
<p>*   *   *</p>
<p>An hour later, he knew exactly who it was when the phone rang.</p>
<p>“Hello”. No reason not to be cheerful after all. He barely registered her words, though. There were times when she asked the most stupid questions – not to mention had the most God-awful sense of timing. Up from the office, he heard Jack’s voice, sounding impatient.</p>
<p>“Ianto?” <i> Sod this </i> he thought. <i> I’ve had enough interruptions for one night. </i>.</p>
<p>“Don’t know what you mean” he said calmly.</p>
<p>“IANTO!” <i> God, he’s got no bloody patience </i> Ianto thought.</p>
<p>“Night Gwen”. He snapped the phone closed, shoving it back into his hip pocket and grabbing the two mugs.</p>
<p>“Coming!” he yelled. Then he stopped dead with an inward groan. He closed his eyes and counted. <i> One, two..</i></p>
<p>“You do that down there and I’ll be mad!” He could all but <b>hear</b> the grin. He sighed, shaking his head.</p>
<p>“The old ones are not always the best, you know!” he shouted.</p>
<p>“Oi! You do know what happens to cheeky boys, don’t you?”</p>
<p>“No idea whatsoever. You’ll have to show me” Ianto deadpanned as he reached the stairs. Jack laughed.</p>
<p>As he climbed the stairs, his mind went briefly to Gwen. He <b>really</b> didn’t like going against Jack’s wishes like this, but what choice did he have? Sometimes, Jack just couldn’t or wouldn’t see what was in front of him. Gwen wasn’t going to give up on this one. She was bound to find out the truth before too long – Ianto had enough respect for her abilities as police officer and Torchwood operative to believe that. But if she blundered around in the dark beforehand, there was no telling what else she might uncover. Far better, far safer, to let her know the truth about this and then deal with the consequences from whatever, doubtless well-intentioned, actions she took than to try and shadow her every move for weeks and have to steer her away from other, even less salubrious secrets. There were things in the Archives that even Ianto wished he’d never learned. He’d tried to get Jack to see that but the older man had been running Torchwood Cardiff for so long, he had a tendency to assume his way was the best way. And God alone knew he was often right – at least the work of the Cardiff branch didn’t give Ianto nightmares. But it also meant he was reluctant, at best, to change his mind. Nothing Ianto could say or do was going to change Jack’s decision on this. But the Archives, protecting the Archives – that was Ianto’s job. So he had made his own decision and given Gwen a shove in the right direction. The safe direction. And when Gwen found the truth and Jack realised Ianto’s role in that…well, he’d deal with the fallout then. </p>
<p>But not tonight. Tonight, he wanted exactly what Jack wanted – some time, just a few hours, to lose themselves in the enjoyment of just being together.</p>
<p>He stepped into the office and blinked. The light had been dimmed and Jack was nowhere to be seen.</p>
<p>Crossing the few steps to the desk, he put the mugs down and then froze as something obscured his vision. For a moment, just a brief second, he began to panic. Then his brain kicked in and registered the warmth of hands over his eyes, the firmness of the body pressed close behind him from knees to neck and the unique, wonderful combination of scents – leather, wool, cinnamon for reasons he’d never understood and overlaying them all the extra undefined scent that said ‘Jack’.</p>
<p>“Hey” Jack’s voice was soft – he’d probably sensed Ianto’s moment of panic. “Sshhh. Do you trust me?” Ianto turned his head blindly towards the voice, Jack’s hands moving with him. </p>
<p>“With my life? Yes. With my virtue? Not a chance.” Jack laughed, kissed Ianto’s jaw briefly and then brought his mouth so close, he could feel Jack’s lips against his skin as the older man whispered to him.</p>
<p>“Virtue? You? Now who’s harbouring delusions?” Another kiss and then “Keep them closed?” Ianto nodded slightly, wondering where this was leading. Jack’s hands left his eyes for a moment and then something soft brushed against his head.</p>
<p>“Blindfold” Jack said softly. “OK?” Ianto nodded again, still wondering, as Jack slipped what felt like silk across his eyes. A slight pressure across the back of his head – an elastic strap, holding the blindfold in place.</p>
<p>“This way” Jack’s hands on his shoulders, moving him till the edge of a chair pressed against the backs of his legs. “Sit down”. Ianto did so and then heard Jack step away.</p>
<p>“Ah, Jack?”</p>
<p>“Wait” Jack’s voice, still soft. Ianto relaxed against the back of the chair. Whatever Jack was up to, he’d find out. And most probably fairly quickly.</p>
<p>There were small sounds from behind him, over by the cupboard where Jack kept the bottles of spirits and the old, heavy lead crystal glasses. Along with a few rather stranger things. It sounded like Jack was moving things around. Then he heard Jack move back towards the desk. There was a soft “clink”, as though Jack had placed something new on the table.</p>
<p>“Five items” Jack said from behind the chair. His hands slid up and over Ianto’s shoulders and undid the first two buttons. He pulled the shirt down until Ianto’s chest and shoulders were bare, the fabric bunched against the younger man’s arms in such a way as to lightly restrain them. When he spoke again, the grin was in his voice.</p>
<p>“You guess three or more correctly from touch first time – I forfeit. You guess wrong on three or more – you forfeit.”</p>
<p>“Forfeit?”</p>
<p>“Yeah. I know you can think of all <b>sorts</b> of things you’d like me to do….you win, I’m yours to command – all night. Game?”</p>
<p>“Oh, yes”</p>
<p>Something brushed across his shoulders, from right to left, then over his shoulder and down to his breastbone before drifting across and back up the top of his shoulder again. Light, soft. Neither hot or cold. And he didn’t have a bloody clue what it was. The same sensation again and he tried to compare and contrast, tried to match it to other sensations and textures. Not wool, or fur, or linen. Too light to be synthetic, too soft to be cotton, too rough for silk. <i> What the hell…..</i></p>
<p>Standing behind Ianto, Jack bit back a laugh. Ianto should have remembered his own words. Though he wasn’t sure that using a fabric not invented until the 45th century counted as “cheating”. Now, what kind of forfeit would Ianto enjoy…..</p>
<p>END</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>